Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

It was well past nine o'clock, and Cassie had still not left Crispin Street. Michael and Genie's dinner had been scheduled for seven, and by now her absence, alongside Grant's, would have surely elicited concern. Her brother would send a footman to Grosvenor Square. When Cassie was not found there, Michael would likely go to Thornton House himself. When neither of them were found, she could only imagine what her brother would suspect.

She should have left for Mayfair immediately from St. Paul's Church. Logic and reason and self-preservation all demanded it of her, and yet, she'd gone to Hope House anyway. How could she attend dinner and pretend as if a crazed man had not just attacked her with a knife? And was Grant to arrive as well, pretending as though he had not subdued the man and saved both her life and Isabel's?

So much pretending. She was tired of it all. Utterly exhausted by it.

Elyse paced the sitting room, her arms crossed. "This is exactly what Madame Archambeau was worried about."

She had returned from the benefactress's dinner just minutes ago, and Cassie had explained everything that had happened at the church rectory.

"This area is too dangerous, and our location too insecure. We're often hiding women from their men and families, just like Mr. Youngdale, and what happened with him is a prime example of how weak our whole arrangement is."

Each word was a stake through Cassie's heart.

"But that is our purpose. It's why we started this home to begin with. To give women a safe place, a private place, with no judgment."

Elyse quit pacing and, still wearing her dinner gown of golden amber silk, she came to sit next to Cassie. "If we promise safety, we must be able to deliver it. The same goes for privacy. That wretched man is going to try and defend himself by denigrating Hope House, exposing it, saying we've kidnapped women?—"

"We don't know what he will say," she argued, but she feared Elyse was right. She usually was. Her wisdom outpaced Cassie's by a long stretch.

"Madame Archambeau will support us financially; she's given us her word. But we need to consider improvements. More protection."

Cassie nodded. "Stronger walls."

Elyse covered Cassie's hand, which was resting limply on her lap. "What is it you're thinking right now?"

Her throat cinched tight. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Does it have to do with Lord Thornton?" she asked with a playful waggle of her brow.

She nodded, then sighed. "Yes. A little bit."

Elyse squinted, her lips pursing into a discerning grin. "He seems to be a good man. What with his bravery tonight and his help with Isabel. And he has kept your secret."

This seemed to impress Elyse, though Cassie was certain she would change her tune should she learn about the courtship scheme. But she said nothing. She didn't want Elyse to despise Grant, not when Cassie could no longer despise him.

So much had changed over the last few weeks. Her secret life had been running with such smooth, oiled precision until Grant had walked into the middle of it all. The wall separating her two lives was rapidly dissolving now. And with Madame Archambeau's support assured, more changes would be coming. It should have frightened her more than it currently did.

"Elyse," she began. "I'm not sure I can be Jane Banks anymore."

Her friend shifted on the sofa cushion to fully face her. "You were never going to be able to be her forever."

"I love it here. I feel purposeful, and I'm proud of what we've started. But…you don't need me. Not anymore. Not now that you'll have Madame Archambeau's money behind you." Quick as a cricket, Elyse smacked Cassie on the arm, startling her. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being stupid. It isn't just your money that makes you useful. Your place is here, whether you're managing the costs of operations or not. And whether you're Miss Jane Banks or Lady Cassandra."

She dropped her hand from rubbing her shoulder and blinked back tears. She blamed them on exhaustion and the tumultuous events of the day.

"That's good to know, since my brother will cut off my income when he learns the truth."

Elyse's lips parted on a gust of air. "You will tell him?"

She felt a surge of trepidation—and determination. "I may wait until after the holidays so as not to ruin them for everyone, but yes. Yes, I think I must."

Elyse had been right; she was never going to be able to be Jane Banks forever. All her secrets, her little lies, and vague excuses that had at first been diverting and insubstantial, had finally started to weigh heavily. Telling herself that it was all worth it because of the good she was doing had reached its limit. She was doing good. But at what expense? Her lies to her family and to those who cared for her and trusted her no longer felt light and merry. They were just plain deceitful.

"So," Cassie went on, "before he can evict me from Grosvenor Square and lock me in a room a Violet House for the rest of my life, what do you say to coming to tea tomorrow? We can discuss improvements to Hope House."

Elyse was difficult to stun, but right then she looked utterly bowled over. "You're inviting me to your home? As Lady Cassandra Sinclair?"

Nerves fizzled out along her extremities, and she got to her feet, suddenly restless. But also resolved. "Yes. I should have done so long before now. I am finished with being a coward."

Elyse shook her head, surely about to tell her she wasn't that. But Cassie raised a hand to stop her. "I want to be me, whatever the consequences. And I would like my friend to come to tea to discuss business matters. Will you?"

Male voices coming from the kitchen accompanied the bright grin stretching over Elyse's lips. "Say one o'clock?"

Cassie nodded. "Perfect."

Elyse left to go to her room and change from her dinner gown, and Cassie made her way to the kitchen. As she suspected, Grant had arrived, and Tris, who'd been on watch at the back door, had let him in.

She pulled up short when she saw him. A purpling bruise discolored his bottom lip and there was a small bloody cut near his eye.

"It's nothing," he said in response to her flaring eyes and halting steps toward him. "I'm fine. As is Isabel. I took her to Thornton House. It's safe there, and her fever isn't the same as Dorie's. A simple head cold, I'm sure of it."

Thornton House? He'd exposed his true identity to Isabel by taking her there.

"And that devil bastard?" Tris asked, scowling. He then bobbed his head toward Cassie. "Forgive me, my lady."

"No need." She looked to Grant. "Has he been arrested?"

Hesitation dimmed his expression, and her heart sank. "Yes, but I'm not sure what will come of it. Assault charges usually result in minor punishment, and with his connections, he is sure to be released. At least a constable will keep guard over him at London Hospital where he was taken for his knee, which I think is indeed shattered," he said with a wry grin.

Injuring him wasn't enough, but it would be a fantasy to believe someone like Mr. Youngdale would meet with proper consequences for what he'd done. At least Isabel was somewhere secure for now.

"He should be locked up," Tris said. "He all but admitted to Isabel that he pushed his first wife down the stairs."

But as there had been no investigation at the time, that would not matter.

With a defeated sigh, Tris slapped his cap back on his head. "I'll go out to the horses, my lady."

He left the kitchen, and Cassie locked the door behind him. She felt Grant's eyes on her back as she went to the stove.

"Tea?" she asked. When she picked up the kettle, her hand shook. Maybe from exhaustion or frustration. Or simply because they were alone.

"No, thank you." He joined her at the stove. There was something he wanted to say. She could feel it. Though, she knew it would not be about tonight's altercation, nor about Isabel or Mr. Youngdale.

She set the kettle down and blurted out, "I'm going to tell him."

Grant frowned. "Tell who, what?"

"My brother. About Hope House and Jane Banks and that I've made my choice, and he can either support me or he can turn his back on me." She dragged in a breath, suddenly short on it.

Grant cocked his head. "That is a bold move."

It was. It also meant that it no longer mattered if he followed through with his threat.

"Cassie," he began. She could not think of another way to stall him. "I'm an uncle again. James has a son."

She stepped away from the stove, and from him. Her fingers twisted together as she floundered for what to say. There was only one acceptable thing. "That is wonderful."

"It is," he agreed.

She kept her back to him, her eyes burning all the sudden.

"The marquess will retract his ultimatum now, I imagine. You must be relieved. You've gotten what you hoped for." She didn't mean for it to sound bitter. Bitter wasn't what she was feeling at all.

"That was the hope," he said, agreeing again. It was getting on her nerves.

Cassie turned, stiffening her neck and shoulders. But she could not quite look him in the eye. "I will tell my brother that he no longer needs to discuss matters with you. And you can inform your family that I've cried off. Now that this charade is over, it would be best if we did not see each other again?—"

"Cassie." He took a stride toward her. She backed up a step to compensate. Grant stopped and held still.

"As for Isabel," she said. "Can I trust that you will take care of arrangements for her?"

Though she was still unable to look him in the eye, she felt his answering glower. "Of course. But there is no reason for such finality."

"There is. You know there is." She closed her stinging eyes, resolved to not let one singular tear slip free. "I haven't been myself, and now, with Madame Archambeau's support, there is so much to do. I need to get back to what matters most, and that's Hope House. Please, Grant. Please go."

He didn't move. Not for several breaths. Not until she turned to the side and continued to refuse to look at him. From her peripheral vision, she saw him go to the door. He reached for the handle. Then paused.

"I was never going to tell your brother. I lied to you to get what I wanted. I used you. I said I was nothing like Renfry, but I am."

Cassie whirled toward him, ready to refute that, but he held up his hand.

"At least do the me honor of despising me as much as I despise myself. I deserve no less, and it will make things more bearable for us both." He opened the door. "Goodbye, Lady Cassandra."

The door closed behind him, and Cassie's legs folded. All strength depleted, she collapsed into a chair and wept.